


Psychometry

by euphorbic



Series: Angel of Cities [5]
Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Still Have Powers, Domestic, M/M, Non-Linear Narrative, Pseudoscience
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-28
Updated: 2013-02-28
Packaged: 2017-12-03 20:38:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/702397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/euphorbic/pseuds/euphorbic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Even though he called ahead and even met with his tailor personally the night before, Charles can feel his fear. When Erik draws near, Charles’ sees the tremor that passes through all people that come in contact with a Power’s presence.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Psychometry

**Author's Note:**

> Edited and added about a hundred words or so.

_Psychometry_

Never once has Charles missed an opportunity to visit the International Repository of the Written Word, Alexandria. Like everyone else in the English-speaking world, Charles simply calls it the International Library or the Library at Alexandria. Emma Frost called it the Library, too, until she imprinted with Alexandria’s well-known Power, whose name nobody can ever remember. Alexandrians, and the rest of the world, refer to him as the Alexandrian. It is much easier to print.

The Library is famous for hosting balls biannually on the Spring and Autumn Equinoxes. Charles has never missed a ball, though until two years ago, he and Hank attended together. Two years ago, Emma’s longtime fiancé, Sebastian, who seems to enjoy being affianced more than married, made several jokes about Hank’s lush blue pelt. Hank has not been to a ball since and though Emma’s fiancé apologized, Charles hasn’t forgotten.

However, Charles has never been the type to be warded off from something he enjoys by anyone, especially not his associates’ significant others. This Spring he will not stay away for the world, because now he has Erik. With the promise of Erik’s accompaniment, Dr. McCoy has acquiesced to returning to the Library’s, or the Alexandrian’s, biannual ball.

This is why Charles has brought Erik to his favorite tailor on a misty Saturday morning, in defiance of the Power’s usual morning schedule. They arrive at the obscene hour of 8AM. Obscene for a Saturday, as far as Charles is concerned, and an hour before the small shop normally opens. Erik is testy; the majority of the weekend maglev traffic will pass through in an hour and he is nowhere near Bashan’s central station. His magnetic field buffets around him as if seeking new poles to align with. Charles has asked him to draw it in close but he has done nothing of the sort.

Even though he called ahead and even met with his tailor personally the night before, Charles can feel his fear. When Erik draws near, Charles’ sees the tremor that passes through all people that come in contact with a Power’s presence. Reaching out mentally, Charles offers Nicolas gentle support; his tailor takes the assistance and relaxes.

“Erik, this is Nicolas,” Charles says calmly, projecting a feeling of softness at Erik. “He is a good friend. Please think of him kindly.”

Erik steps closer to Nicolas and tucks his chin to look down at him. Charles continues to gird Nicolas. _Don’t worry, I told you he might sense all the metal on your person._

A tense moment passes before Erik’s natural fierceness fades into interest and then a measure of respect. He steps back and inclines his head in a slow nod. He then lifts his right hand, palm out at shoulder height. Charles doesn’t see where the pair of scissors come from; they make no sound when they contact Erik’s palm.

Nicolas frowns profoundly. “Please don’t; those are quite old.”

Charles grits his teeth in pique. “Erik, please give the scissors back to Nicolas.”

Contrary all morning, Erik does no such thing, but his expression warms as he looks the tarnished shears over. Clouds of corrosion roll back across the metal as Erik handles them. “It is older than your pocket watch. It isn’t awake, but perhaps in another generation or two.”

Nicolas’ wonder rises up and Charles must pull back or risk treading where he doesn’t belong. It is tempting to stay close, though, for wonder is one of Charles’ favorite emotions. “Those scissors… they’ve been handed down to whoever in the family keeps the business alive.”

Erik nods, his face impassive, but eyes far away. Charles can faintly hear his Power counting to himself. “Ten begats ago, it was shaped from ore within the Ural mountains. It provided raiment and substance to families. It spilled blood. It has known much affection and respect. It isn’t awake, but perhaps your granddaughter will wake it.”

When Erik hands the newly-bright shears back to Nicolas, the tailor has ceased to fear, even though Erik has given warm regard to the scissors alone. “I’m sure she would like that. If you’ll remove your coat, we can get started on your measurements.”

Erik cedes to the request and removes his military-inspired coat. Charles takes it from him, projecting pride in his Power’s treatment of the shears. _That was perfect, Erik. You put Nicolas at such ease. I’m proud of you._

_You take pride in the unintentional,_ Erik replies, his mind’s voice the whirring of metal-and-chitin wings. He’s still thinking of the maglevs he’s missing, but he’s even more caught up in Charles’ pleasure in him.

_Everything about us is unintentional,_ Charles replies coyly, limning the thought in muted layers of love and lust.

Erik turns sharply at the emotion, rather than the words. Charles smiles at Erik and thinks privately that he’s lucky to have someone both powerful and powerfully invested in pleasing him and him alone. 


End file.
